The Cursed One
by ReworkedBeauty
Summary: Chapter 1 of The Cursed One Diaval is cursed by a witch, and must now obey whoever owns his ring. This ring falls into the hands of a powerful witch, whose motives are unclear.
1. Chapter 1

pre style="font-size: 9pt;"ttDiaval drew a small dagger, gritting his teeth in outrage. He felt his muscles move, clumsily running out to meet the powerful witch. It was a poor strategy, one made in fear and reckless panic. His mistress cowered behind him, putting her hope in the fact that he could defeat a terrifyingly magical witch with a small dagger.

He would have left long ago, long before any army showed up, if he could have. Hell, he'd be all the way in a different kingdom right now if he wasn't trapped...But here he was, locked in a crazy curse and letting various witches control him at their leisure.

He flung the dagger out at the woman's face, and she tossed his hand aside with a strong arm. Even without magic, she was stronger than he. Diaval began to prepare his mind for pain, and possibly death. Who knew with these witches?

With a bolt of cracking light, she flung Diaval across the room. He slid across the floor and snapped his head into the wall. Immediately his head blurred and the world seemed numb and soundless. He could barely see flashing colors dancing outside of his eyes.

Suddenly he was griped with so much pain, he couldn't help but cry out. The back of his head bled badly, a pulsing, white hot pressure shooting down from his head and into his eyes and temples. His sight returned, and through his tears he saw the form of his mistress collapse onto the ground, purple light streaming from her body and into the victor's. His sight began to fade as a gold ring began to glow on the dead witch's finger. The victorious witch snatched it up, looking at it curiously. She turned to Diaval just as his consciousness slipped into a needed sleep.

The man woke up in a bed. An uncomfortable bed, for certain, but still a bed. The very fact that he was alive proved very good news. When he tried to look around, he felt a painful headache start, but he opened his eyes anyways to see his surroundings. White cloth set up as temporary walls, rows of beds with multitudes of wounded men and women. He had been placed in the infirmary.

"He's awake!" cried a female voice, "Go get the Queen!"

Diaval sunk into the bed again, closing his eyes against the harsh light and colors of the world. After a few minutes he felt a presence beside him; not comforting, but not quite intimidating.

"What is this?" The presence said with a stern tone.

The man opened his eyes just enough to see what she was talking about. She carried his ring.

He let out a sigh, "It's my curse." Adjusting his legs, he shifted around on the bed, finding it difficult to get comfortable.

"What do you mean?" She demanded.

"Whoever owns that ring owns me. A witch tied me to that ring several years ago, and I've been a slave ever since. You own the ring now so I guess you're my new mistress."

The queen looked taken aback, "What kind of magic is that? I've never heard of any sort of spell that could force obedience."

"It's an old magic..." He replied, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain in his head, "An evil magic. Enacted by the most powerful being in this world."

The woman sat on his bed, making his head tilt to the side and relieving some of the stress on his wound.

"Who might that be?" Asked the woman. Diaval didn't like the tone in her voice: It was hungry. Hungry for what?...power? Blood?

"I don't know her name, I met her on the road, but the power that came from her was overwhelming," he lied.

The woman seemed disgruntled. She stood from the bed and brushed away the wrinkles in her scarlet red dress.

"Sleep then, cursed one. I'll speak with you later."

Diaval obeyed...like he always did.

His dreams were a mixture of memories, blending together into confusion.

Maleficent smiling sadly, telling him that it would be okay. Phillip dying in his arms, gasping out a few final words. Élania cackling wildly, putting his ring on her wrinkled, ugly finger.

The raven woke up in a cold sweat. The infirmary was dark, and the sweat on his skin began to chill with the bitter wind making it's way through the cloth. He steadied his breathing, then felt his body begin to rise out of bed. Pain blossomed in his head, but he couldn't stop. He had been summoned. The cursed man walked out of the infirmary, making his way down a row of tents to the large scarlet tent on the end. He brushed past the tent flap and walked straight past a sleeping guard, into a section of the tent that was completely covered in red, white and black drawings. He pulled the coverings away and stepped through, his hands shaking with the effort.

The witch lay in bed, rolling his ring around in her fingers. She looked up in shock when he walked through, and then gasped. Diaval bowed slowly, then collapsed on the floor as control of his muscles was given back to him.

The young woman got out of bed and grabbed him, pulling him up onto her bed and pushing aside his hair to check his wound. The sights around him started to blend once more, and the world faded away, leaving only the dulled color of scarlet and a frantic whisper of "I'm so sorry! I'm so, so sorry!"/tt/pre 


	2. Chapter 2

He woke up in her bed. A woman sitting in a chair beside him stood and walked out of the room.

"Wait..." He muttered, but she closed the curtains behind her with a tone of finality. Diaval felt better, he wondered how long he'd been sleeping... The curtains moved aside and the witch came through. She sat down in the chair and watched him. "Are you feeling any better?" She asked. "I am. Though I'm incredibly thirsty." She nodded and called someone into the room, sending them back out to get a cup of water. "I apologize for the other night, I didn't think the curse was so direct. I didn't mean to actually summon you." "You are apologizing?" He said with a disbelieving snicker. "I am," she insisted, "You were injured and should not have been moving." He propped himself up on an elbow. His head spun from laying down for so long, but other than that he felt no pain. "Tell me, what do you plan to do with all your power?" He asked. It wasn't sarcastic or spiteful, he genuinely wanted to know. The witch straightened, her expression taking on a more formal face. "I am using my power to rid the kingdom of the threat of the witches." "Aren't you a witch yourself?" "Yes...but I don't believe the way they do." "I assume that after the other witches are gone, you will take their place as Queen of the kingdoms of Man and More?" The witch looked shocked and a little bit hurt. "My intentions are pure, cursed one. I wish to rid the Kingdom of all witches' rule. Including my own." Diaval slowly sat up, intrigued. "So...what? You'll hermit yourself? After killing all those witches, you'll have collected all of their power. You're just going to hide it all away and never use it?" The witch glanced down at the floor, "Something like that." A moment of silence passed between them before she said, "Tell me your name, cursed one." "Diaval, mistress," he replied. She gave him a light smile. "I am Claire, Captain of the Scarlet Army. Temporary Queen of those who would no longer be ruled by the wicked witches." Diaval stood up, precariously bowing on his wobbly feet. "I am at your service, Mistress Claire." "Because of the ring?" She asked. Diaval lifted an eyebrow, looking at her with a hint of snobbery. "For now, yes." She nodded. A person came in with water and Diaval drank it all at once. The cool liquid felt good on his throat, and put him in a better mood. At least on the outside, Claire seemed to be a decent person. But Diaval had had his fill of decent people in his life. Almost none of them had been what they seemed. "Come, Diaval," she ordered, "You're going to help me plan my next move." They both walked through the camp, and Diaval got a good look at it all. The camp housed an army of people. Farmers, beggars, middle-class men: they had all formed together to stand against the tyrannical witches. Claire led him to a tent where a small group of people was gathered around a map of the kingdom. The map had been divided into six circles, and three of those circles were marked out in big red X's. The witch walked to the chair at the front of the table and sat down, dignified. Diaval acted on his instincts and stood beside her chair, staying quiet and watching with interest. "Since the time of Maleficent's betrayal, the witches have ruled this kingdom with an iron fist," Claire began. Diaval felt like slapping her. How dare she speak so venomously toward a person she'd never even met. How could she know what Maleficent was like? How could she know what had truly happened all those years ago... Diaval stopped his mind from traveling to such a painful memory. He snapped back to attention when he heard Claire mention his name. "This is Diaval. He will be a valuable asset to us because he was the slave of a witch, and so might have inside information." Oh if only she knew just how "inside" his information was. Diaval stopped himself from shuddering, knowing that all eyes were upon him. "Our next target is the witch named Liona. She rules the north-west side of the kingdom and is known for turning her subjects into swine when they displease her." The group muttered angrily for a few seconds before Claire stopped what she was saying to look at Diaval. He hadn't noticed his hand clenching her chair...it had tightened at the name of Liona. How could she have noticed that? Claire stood up, moving closer to him. "Do you know of her?" She whispered. "She held my ring for a time. Most of the witches have owned me for some period of time. They liked to trade me as a gift every once in a while." Claire sat back down. The group had heard and was looking closely at the raven. He sighed and approached the map, grabbing a spare piece of paper and a piece of charcoal. He began to draw an outline of a castle... "Her castle is built on a small island. The only way to get there, without her permission, is with magic. Claire will have to forcibly bring up the drawbridge from the water so that the army can pass through. The castle has no gates, so once you are on the island you can make your way into the courtyard without a problem. She has a small army which is mostly armed with short-swords. Your main concern will be the boiling water that they like to pour on people's heads. There are four main points where they have giant pots to pour it...here, here, here and here." Diaval circled four points on the castle map, making sure everyone could see. "Once you get past the water, defeating the army should be no problem, they're really not trained for hand-to-hand combat. They're so certain that nobody can get to the castle without Liona's permission that they've never put much effort into it." Diaval looked up into the rapt faces around him. "Please make a note of this," he said in a shaky voice, "There are innocent people living in that castle. People who are required to live there merely for the entertainment of that pig of a witch. Do not harm them! They have never hurt a single soul and never will." The heads nodded in agreement. Diaval looked back at his mistress and she nodded encouragingly. "Liona will stay inside her library, on the third tower from the left," Diaval drew an arrow pointing to where the library was, "She has many enchantments protecting the staircase, so you have to be careful to disarm each one. Take your time! There's nowhere for her to go." He mainly spoke to Claire now. His eyes started to blaze with a fiery passion...almost a blood lust. It frightened him a bit, but after what Liona did to him, he couldn't help but want to see her destruction. "At the top of the stairs is a huge library. Don't let it fool you, it's not where she'll be. Go directly to the first bookshelf you see on the right wall and pull down the candlestick. It will open up another staircase which will lead you straight to her hiding place." Diaval looked around, realizing he might have gotten carried away. A few beats of uncomfortable silence passed before Claire stood. "You heard the man! Get to work! Start forming the battle strategies now!" Desperate hands grabbed hold of his map and the group began to talk loudly. Claire took Diaval by the arm and dragged him outside, letting her strategists take control. "What are you not telling them?" She said. "You're quick to pick up on things, aren't you?" He said, making a mental note. "I'm good with emotions. And you're easy to read." He took a moment to organize his thoughts...how should he explain himself? "There's...a group of people. They are outside of the innocent group, but not evil like Liona is. They simply fear her..." Diaval felt a lump rise in his throat. "Most witches punish cruelly and without mercy. But Liona doesn't just punish. She hurts for the sake of hurting. And she doesn't like to do it alone. She has a group of "friends" who she makes hurt people. They are too afraid of her to say no, so they do things. Terrible, torturous, evil things. All of them eventually grew to like it, and now they act more as a big gossip party than anything else. I included them in the innocent group because they never had a choice at first...but when it comes down to it they've done things that would make a villain blush." Claire looked at him, peering into his very soul with deep, perceptive eyes. "We're you one of that group, Diaval?" Diaval's gaze shifted to the ground. The lump in his throat got bigger, and he had to force a tear away from his eye. "My dreams are haunted by the things she made me do. I don't want to talk about it." Claire seemed troubled, "Did you grow to enjoy it?" He looked up at her with a stony expression, "Never. Every day I wished more and more that I would die, yet I could not disobey. The others could have said no. They could have chosen to die rather than do those things. I would have, but they didn't...and it disturbs me." "So would you count that group as innocent, or a threat?" she asked him, bringing focus to the situation he was trying to describe. "I honestly have no way of knowing," he answered. Claire readjusted her dress, shaking out some wrinkles. "Thank you, cursed one. I'll keep that in mind." 


	3. Chapter 3

By the next morning, the Scarlet Army was ready to go. Diaval had been set with the task of packing up the infirmary with the women and it had taken almost all night. He'd gotten two hours of sleep before the horn was sounded and he was summoned by the Queen's side. The dark rings under his eyes could have been considered a side effect of his mood, however, because after making several biting remarks towards Claire's servants and impatiently pushing a man aside, Claire deemed him absolutely unapproachable and then seemed to have forgotten about him. There were few horses in the army, so Diaval attempted to walk beside his mistresses' horse. As the day grew hotter, however, he found his feet lagging. People began to pass him until he was the very last person in the long succession of people. He stared into the ground as he walked, unhappy.

Diaval was unhappy in general, but that was a situation that had become so common to him he almost didn't notice it. Instead, he noticed his aggravation. Sleepless and sore though he was, he began to feel that this touchiness came mostly from his apprehension. It would take no more than a week to enter Liona's land…and with all the talk about how evil the witch was, the raven found it harder and harder to forget about the time he spent as Liona's slave.

How had it come to this?

Diaval thought back to happier times. A time when Aurora served as Queen and Maleficent and he protected the Moors. Those times had been so simple and wonderful. He felt himself smile at the memories as they flitted through his head. Suddenly, the person walking in front of him halted. Diaval had to stop himself from toppling over, and he bit his tongue as a curse almost spilled out of his mouth.

There were children around…he couldn't go about cussing in front of them. Instead, he clenched his fists tightly and asked politely what was going on. The people in front of him turned around, surprised.

"We've been marching for half the day. We're going to eat and rest."

Had it been half the day already? He looked around at the people; they had begun to sit under whatever shade they could find, and were bringing out food.

"Hungry?" said a voice.

A bag fell into his hands and as he looked up he saw it had come from Claire, who was still sitting on top of her horse. Diaval held his hand out and Claire elegantly dismounted, then sat straight down in the grass and pulled out her own bag. Diaval sat down alongside her and looked into his bag. His stomach growled as the scent of bread and cheese reached his nose.

"You know, when I think of a Queen, I don't think of a young woman sitting in the grass eating a packed lunch."

"I think of myself more as an army captain than as a Queen."

"Oh yes, you hold absolutely no power over these soldiers. They wouldn't die for you in battle or anything like that."

Diaval knew very well that ever single soldier in the Scarlet Army would gladly give his life for Claire's. Claire must have known it too, because she blushed in ugly splotches on her forehead and ears.

"Well I don't plan on abusing that power like the witches do."

He shrugged, taking a big bite out of his cheese and bread together.

"You say that now. But power is tempting. It's almost irresistibly seductive. I find it hard to believe that you won't be their Queen after all of this is over."

"I won't really have a choice…" she sighed quietly, more to herself than to Diaval.

Whatever that had meant, her expression had darkened and she began to gloomily watch the sky. Diaval finished his meal and then stared up into the sky with her. He saw a few birds flitting here and there, and the sight made him sadder than anything he had seen all day.

"What's wrong?" she asked, looking at him.

"Nothing," he lied. He stood up from the grass.

'I'm going to help prepare everyone to march again…" he muttered, but Claire grabbed hold of his shirt and pulled him back.

"I order you to tell me what's wrong."

Diaval narrowed his eyes at her, trying everything in his power to disobey.

"I miss my wings," his mouth said without his permission, "I used to be a raven and I'm used to being human now, but I still miss the freedom of flying."

The Queen stood, tilting her head to one side in surprise.

"You were a raven? That makes so much sense! The way you stand, the way you eat, it was all so birdlike that I didn't know what to make of it. Who turned you into a human?"

"Mali-um…Aurora," he stuttered.

Claire stared in shock, "You knew the old Queen? What was she like?"

Diaval felt dirty, but he knew he had to lie. He had to keep the secret…

"Just as wonderful as the rumors say. She was beautiful and fair…" he pushed the next words out with effort, "kind-hearted and absolutely lovely."

Claire grabbed his shoulder and stared into his eyes, her face alight with excitement.

"Were you there when Maleficent betrayed her?"

Dirty, filthy, disgusting lies. He was a horrible person for spreading them.

"I was in the midst of it, the shame and horror I felt was indescribable."

"And you were cursed soon after?" she asked.

"A few days later."

He wondered if one day he'd ever be caught. Not that it much mattered. A big part of him wanted to be caught, simply so the truth would be known.

Claire exhaled sadly, "To think that you have so much story behind you. You truly have led a tragic life, cursed one.

He thought to himself, "You have no idea."

"Diaval…" Claire said quietly, "How would you like to fly again?"

"What?' was all he could respond with before the Queen touched his shoulder and he felt himself changing. Shrinking down into his old, familiar form. With a triumphant caw, Diaval stretched his wings and looked over every single feather, crooning over each one.

Claire smiled, then said to him, "Go! Fly before us and notify us of danger if any comes."

Diaval wasted no time, he burst from the earth like a star shooting across the sky. He was flying again, with the wind in his feathers and the sun straight above him! Making wide circles above the army, he enjoyed the feeling of his wings on air while he waited for them to get ready to march once more.


	4. Chapter 4

pre style="font-size: 9pt;"ttThe raven flew for the rest of the day, watching for danger but never truly expecting any. When he finally landed, after the sun had set in a creamy mixture of reds and golds, the army had set up the tents and Claire was waiting for him on the outskirts of camp. He flew down, perching on the ground beside her. She quickly turned him into a human, then seemed relieved to see his smiling face.

"The freedom...the open sky! Mine for the taking," he said breathlessly. Claire laughed and patted him on the shoulder, "Come on cursed one, we'll be starting the food soon."

They walked to the center of camp, where a large fire had become the hub of the army's bantering. A few people came out with flutes and fiddles, starting up an earthy tune that brought back good memories for Diaval. Women began to dance and men clapped along, laughing and trying to talk over the noise. The few children who had tagged along with the army played tag, weaving around the legs of the adults. A young girl almost careened into Diaval's legs before stepping back fearfully.

The raven knelt down to look at her, and gave her a genuine smile. She tentatively smiled back, and when he grabbed her hands, she followed him out to where the women were dancing.

Diaval felt himself let go of his worries for the first time in a long time. He simply enjoyed the music and danced with the little girl, twirling her around until she squealed with laughter. The beat sped up and his feet sped up with it, drumming the rhythm out on the crackly dirt floor. Other people began to join, and soon a huge crowd of dancers spun around the fire, giggling and shouting and tossing each other around. His breath began to feel short, but he only went faster, spinning and spinning.

Before he knew it, the song was over and everyone was clapping. He bowed out of forgotten habit an kissed the little girl's hand.

"I thank you for this dance, my lady." He said in between breaths. She curtsied awkwardly, then ran off to join her friends.

People had put food over the fire while they'd been dancing, and suddenly the smell of roasting pig caught his attention. He shuffled away from the dance floor as another song began, collapsing on a patch of grass not too far away. Claire came over soon after, giving him a peculiar stare.

"What is that look for?" He demanded.

"I just never imagined that you would be the type of person who liked children."

"Well, I guess you imagined wrong then."

It was strange...the man he used to be had been a lot like this dancer he had suddenly found himself as. He had loved children, and dancing and everything lively and fun...but as the years passed and as he had gone through one trouble after another, his smile seemed to have disappeared. His love of life had dimmed. His very soul had seemed numb, and blurry.

Maybe all he had needed was a good chance to spread his wings again. He hadn't gone in his raven form since Maleficent, and that had been much too long.

"Come..." said Claire,"Dance with me."

"Always your servant, mistress," he responded and so the two of them joined the waves of dancing couples.

Claire was a decent dancer. She obviously hadn't had any practice at a true royal ball, but she seemed to have natural body rhythm. The way she moved her hips and arms was graceful and elegant while powerful and somewhat tribal at the very same time.

The two danced, and the people around them gave them plenty of room to maneuver.

By the end of it Diaval was drenched in sweat. Normally he couldn't stand the feel of sweat, but he felt so utterly elated by the music and the cheerful attitude of the crowd, that he hardly even noticed.

He had rested for a few minutes when another song started. He told himself he wouldn't dance again. He was far too tired for that!

But when he saw a young woman, standing near the edge of the circle, he found himself leaping to her side and sweeping her away.

The night went on like that, with dancing and eating and laughing and talking, for several hours before Claire encouraged everyone to rest for the march tomorrow. The "encouragement" put an end to any sort of frolicking, and the army immediately made it's way into bed. Diaval found a bed to sleep in in the soldier's quarters, and within minutes the raven had fallen fast asleep.

The next day was almost the same as the last, except for the fact that Diaval had begun to grow bored up in the air. He started to come down every once in a while, checking up on his mistress, flying around the heads of the children to keep them entertained and just watching the people. They were quite entertaining, their conversations mainly centered on what they hoped the future would hold. Most of them seemed to believe that Claire would be the new Queen, they discussed it quite often.

As the sun looped overhead, there was a disruption in the line. A small group of soldiers had suddenly begun to fight, causing mayhem and putting everything to a halt. Diaval perched on a tree limb nearby, watching as the witch drew near. As soon as she had dismounted, the men stopped fighting and looked at her like schoolboys caught doing mischief.

"Who started it?" She said simply.

Two men were pushed forward.

"My lady," said the first one, "This man was trying to steal my property!"

"Property that is owned by the army collectively!" Shouted the second man, "We are an active group of people who work together to accomplish an important goal. What's mine is yours and what's yours is mine! You have more than enough to eat, while I and my wife have nothing! It is a social responsibility to share what you have with your brothers."

The first man was about to shout back when Claire advanced, putting them both into silence. She looked into the eyes of the second man, staring him down until he squirmed.

"That soldier has worked hard for his property. It is his. He is not obliged to share it with you, nor is he obliged to let you take it from him. Maybe he ran into more luck than you did, but that doesn't give you permission to steal what isn't yours."

The second man grit his teeth, seething out, "But that isn't fair."

"Life isn't fair!" Claire screamed, freezing everyone around her in fearful shock. The witch stepped back, as if she were shocked herself. She took a minute to gather her wits, then said, "The sooner you get used to it, the sooner you can move past it."

Without another word, she mounted her horse and rode to the front of the line. The Scarlet Army followed, pondering her behavior and gossiping about the men until late at night when Claire finally decided to halt. The camp was made, but there was no dancing this night. The people were too busy talking. After eating, Claire walked a ways from the camp and sat down at the side of a creek. Diaval debated joining her. If she wanted to talk she likely would have brought him along.

But what if she needed to talk?

Diaval slipped away from the chattering army groups and went to sit beside his mistress. She said nothing, only stared into the rippling water.

After a few seconds, Diaval uncomfortably noticed that a tear was running down her cheek. He shifted his weight, not sure what to say.

"I'm dying, Diaval."

The sentence was so abrupt and sudden that it took a while for him to take in the meaning.

"Wh-what? What do you mean?"

Claire continued to stare into the water, her expressionless face adding another tear to trickle down and land on her fingers.

"All this power is killing me, it's too much for my body to handle."

Diaval turned his body to face hers.

"Well...well why don't you stop? You plan on killing more witches? Getting more power? That will only-"

"Kill me faster," she finished for him.

He didn't respond. He didn't really need to.

"You don't understand, I'm the only one who is powerful enough to kill all of them. I can't just stop. There are more people that have to be freed. More people who need to be shown how wonderful it is to have your life to yourself, you know?"

"You would sacrifice yourself for them," he said. It wasn't a question, it was more of a realization.

"Of course. Wouldn't you?"

"Well...I might say that I would...but when it came down to it? I'm really not sure."

"That's where we differ then. I've always been sure. I've just known: My destiny is that of a martyr. I've come to accept it...even be a bit proud of it."

"That's not true. I can hear it in your voice. You're angry."

Her strong wall of confidence crumbled more and more with every tear that fell from her eyes.

"No..." She whispered.

"You're angry at life. You want desperately to save them, but you don't want to die to do it."

"No...I'm not selfish like that."

"It's not selfish, Claire, it's called being smart. You shouldn't just throw your life away. Is there any way to survive? Any way to save them and live?"

Claire turned to him, looking into his eyes with that deep stare.

"I've been trying to find a way. I've been reading all of the books and asking the experts and doing everything I can. I've looked through almost every magical resource in the kingdom. There is no way."

"There must be something...the newer resources don't speak of a witch's magic. Their magic is older, darker and more dangerous. You need to find the old books and look through those."

"Diaval I don't have time!" She cried out, "I believe I have a few more months left, but I have three more witches to kill. I'll have survived past expectancy if I can even make it to the last one."

"Well send someone out then! Send someone to find the books and bring them back."

"Send a soldier, who joined only to fight for his own freedom, to find books that will do nothing to help him in any way? Any of my soldiers would do that for me, but I simply cannot take them away from their cause. I have resigned myself and I am okay with it."

Filthy, dirty lies. Straight from the mouth of a woman who might otherwise be perfect. He felt like crying, simply because of his anger. Why wouldn't she just let go? Do what she could to survive?

Maybe if...

"I need you in this battle, cursed one," she whispered, almost reading his thoughts, "Liona is my most dangerous enemy yet, and you know her better than anyone. I need you to come with me to the library."

"Do you have a death wish, girl?" He erupted, standing up and beginning to pace along the creek.

"It wouldn't be a problem for a single soldier to volunteer to try and find those books!"

Claire bit her lip, and Diaval hoped that she was rethinking her flawed logic.

"Where would they have to go?" She asked.

"Someplace dangerous, certainly," he admitted, "But if we let him know of the risks, and he volunteered anyways..."

"How dangerous?" She asked, standing up and wiping the tears from her face.

Diaval bit his tongue, his lying instincts desperately wanting to kick in.

"Extremely. He would have to travel through the Dark Forest in the Moors."

Claire glared at him, "Absolutely not!"

"So you'll put your life on the line for them, but you won't let them do it for you? Is that what you're saying?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying, cursed one, now do not speak of this to me again!" She burst, and with a huff she walked away back into the crowd.

Stupid girl. Stupid, oblivious girl. If the soldiers only knew what she needed they would go off themselves, without her blessing and risk their lives anyways.

Diaval paused. She had ordered him not to mention it to her. She had not, however, ordered him to mention it to someone else. The raven ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. Oh, how he missed the old times, when everything was simple and there was only happiness./tt/pre 


End file.
